Hold Me Up
by Liv Wilder
Summary: SPOILERS: Post-ep for 6x11 'Under Fire'. 'They trudge through the front door, feet heavy, hair, clothes, everything reeking of smoke. They have sooty smudges on their faces and a pair of matching grins that are already threatening to fade to nothing – soppy, tired, over emotional. "Hey, come here," growls Castle, catching her sleeve and tugging her back towards him'. COMPLETE


_A/N: So I watched 'Under Fire' this morning, as you can probably guess by the appearance of this hastily written post-ep. This story took a route I wasn't expecting. I hope you enjoy. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about 'In Some Corner' or 'Coming Home for Good'. Sometimes you just have to write when the muse strikes. _

* * *

**_Hold Me Up_**

They trudge through the front door, feet heavy, hair, clothes, everything reeking of smoke. They have sooty smudges on their faces and a pair of matching grins that are already threatening to fade to nothing – soppy, tired, over emotional.

"Hey, come here," growls Castle, catching her sleeve and tugging her back towards him.

Kate spins around and collides with his chest, burying her face in his neck. The collar of his navy shirt is open, leaving his throat and a good portion of his upper chest exposed. She presses her lips to the soft, warm hollow below his windpipe and then turns her head to the side, nuzzling her cheek against his neck, her nose buried inside the warmth of his shirt, never so glad that she has this now – the comfort of him to come home to.

At times like these he holds her up.

Even with the stench of the fire permeating every fiber of their clothing she can still detect traces of her partner - her fiancé - rising from the perfect heat of his skin. There's the citrus sharpness of their soap, the clean, masculine smell of his shaving gel, a hint of the cologne she gave him at Christmas and asked him to wear from now on.

"When I get pregnant," Kate murmurs into the still air between them, her fingers gripping tightly to his coat lapel, "I'm grounding you at home with me for the last few weeks."

Castle chuckles softly at this slightly out-of-character overreaction, tangling his fingers in her sooty curls.

"I mean it, Castle," she says plaintively, as a sob rises in her parched throat from out of nowhere and she thumps his chest with her balled up fist. Misplaced anger and the legacy of the fear she's not yet managed to dispel rise up to tighten her muscles and tear at her heart. "Right up until my due date and beyond if we have to."

Tears bead her lashes and she closes her eyes to the swimming vista of their home.

* * *

She doesn't get afraid, not often, but when she does it hits her hard. Images flood her mind, too detailed and too vivid. Images she can feel, and sometimes she wonders if it's him – Castle – his writer's mind, memory and eye for the smallest nuance and detail rubbing off on her. Tonight those images include flashbacks to Jenny: so helpless at the most vulnerable moment of her life, a moment she and Ryan had so long planned for, wanting it to be a perfect start for their baby, their new little family. Robbed of that chance and left with different memories now. A frightening tale of the night their baby was born in the back of an ambulance to relay for years to come.

There are also images she's conjured for herself of Esposito and Ryan when she spoke to them on the phone - cooking down there in some hellfire concrete dungeon in the basement of that burning shoe factory. She knows these will resurface again at some later, unspecified date to torment her.

Then there are all the times she and Castle have faced danger and almost didn't make it. These sometimes come flooding back to haunt her in the pitch black of night or the smoky grey of early dawn as he slumbers peacefully beside her, unaware of her torment. On those rare occasions she finds herself feeling so alone, adrift and afraid – the what ifs, the might-have-beens, the if onlys curdling any sense of scale or rationality in her brain, while she bears the burden of her overactive imagination by herself.

It's harder in some ways now that she has him, now that she is happy. There is more to live for and consequently far more to lose.

So she thumps his chest again with the heel of her hand, and he knows her so well. He grasps her wrists and pulls her tight against him, squeezing her fiercely until all the fear she's feeling dispels and she is spent, fingers clawing to grip the back of his brown wool overcoat, trying to hold herself up. Only there is no need, because he has her. Yes, he's got her. From now on he will always have her, and he whispers these reassurances into her hair, brushes her ear with his lips, her temple, her forehead, pressing his love and reassurance into her soot-coated skin until she hears him, begins to take note, registers the words, the promises, the overriding sentiment that she is no longer alone in any of this - that he will protect her until his last breath. Her fears are _his fears_, her worries halved between them, her cares and hopes and dreams a shared vision they are both working to realize.

* * *

"We'll stay home and watch movies and eat ice cream. Both of us fat as whales," she mumbles to another chuckle of laughter from her fiancé.

"I'm serious, Castle," she groans, fighting the tight grip he still has on her wrist in an attempt to deliver another soft blow to his chest for emphasis. But he won't let her, because he's got her. "No way are you leaving me to go through labor alone and missing our baby's big moment."

"Shhh," he soothes, running his hand up and down her back, pressing tiny kisses to all the exposed skin he can reach. "It's okay, Kate. Everyone is safe. Kevin and Jenny's baby is safe. Everything worked out perfectly in the end."

Then it happens. A sob rips its way out of her throat and the tears begin to fall.

"If I'm on desk duty then you are too," she hiccups, wiping her runny nose on the lapel of his coat.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be," he assures her, walking them both further into the loft away from the front door.

"And if I'm on bed rest for any reason, you're lying in there with me. Understand?" she asks, stilling them both for a second until he nods at her in puzzled acknowledgement.

"Why are you on bed rest?" he giggles, humoring her in her fractious state.

Because he's more grateful than he ever thought possible that she lets him see her like this – vulnerable and afraid – and that she'll let him help her now in ways she never would have contemplated before they became a couple.

"I don't know," she groans, as if he's being deliberately difficult. "Preeclampsia, placenta previa, preterm labor…all sorts of reasons," she argues, getting frustrated with him, though in truth he's said very little until now. "Anyway, shut up! Don't argue with me. Just say you'll stay in bed with me."

"Wait a minute," says Castle, pulling back to look at her properly. He holds her at arm's length, hands on her elbows. "How do you know all of this?" he asks, blinking at her, scanning the guilty look that's suddenly appeared on her tear-stained face.

"The books…it's in all the books," she replies slowly, shrugging it off, as if her thin answer and an off-hand gesture are going to save her from further interrogation.

She eases herself out of Castle's arms then and begins peeling off her tan quilted jacket.

"We should put all of this stuff in a garbage bag. I'll take it to the drycleaner tomorrow," she rambles, reaching into the cupboard beneath the sink.

"Put that down. I'll take care of it," insists Castle, snatching the roll of black garbage bags and her coat out of her hand.

He deposits both on the counter and then turns her around so they are face-to-face again.

"Talk to me, Kate?" he asks, studying her face – the resolute, stubborn line of her jaw, the full-on, defiant way she meets his direct gaze and never flinches.

But he gets nothing further, and then she simply ducks under his arm and heads for the bedroom - an unexpected reappearance of the Kate Beckett-of-old.

"I'm going to take a bath," she calls over her shoulder, leaving him standing stunned in the kitchen wondering what the hell just happened.

* * *

He taps the bathroom door a couple of minutes later.

She left his robe out on the bed for him. Her clothes lie in a puddled heap in the corner, left to rest on top of a plastic bag from a high-end shoe store she likes on Prince so they won't stain the rug or a chair.

He undresses like a man of eighty – feeling a bone-deep, aching exhaustion that is both physical and emotional. His robe is belted low and loose on his hips, the two sides drawn together roughly. He hopes to persuade Kate to let him soak in the bath along with her, to wash away this hellish day and give them a chance to reconnect.

So he taps the door with his fingers crossed, hoping that whatever caused her sudden outburst in the kitchen has dissipated just as quickly as it came.

The door swings open, water thundering into the tub beyond, and she stands there, shoulders slightly hunched, pale without her make-up, her own white robe falling off one shoulder as steam rises all around her.

Tears streak down her cheeks and he shakes his head, frightened by how fractured she looks, unable to fathom what's breaking her heart like this, until he meets her eye and lets her draw his gaze down to the thing she's holding in her hand.

"I'm sorry, babe. I wanted to tell you…was waiting…for Friday," she sobs, biting her lip.

"Friday? You mean dinner?" he asks, watching her nod her head and clutch at her robe.

"Date night," she confirms, swiping away one track of tears.

A sudden smile tugs at the corners of her mouth - lips, cheeks all rounding and upturned in a flash of hesitant happiness.

"Is that—?" he asks, pointing to the item she holds in her hand.

Kate nods. The water continues to thunder behind her, but they are cocooned in an island of quiet calm that he can't quite explain.

"I know we said not yet. But somehow…I don't know…" she tells him, looking down at the little plastic wand as if it has magical properties.

"You're _pregnant_?" he whispers, watching her nod vigorously, choke back a sob and then grin at him hopefully all in the space of a nanosecond.

"Oh. My. God. You're pregnant," he repeats, staring at her in wonder. "We're having a _baby_?"

"Yes," laughs Kate, squealing when he launches himself at her and envelops her in the biggest hug.

"How did this happen?" he asks giddily, rocking her from side-to-side.

"You're asking _me_?" she giggles back through more tears.

And then they both laugh together, doubled over, holding hands and looking like a couple of crazies.

"God, I love you," Castle tells her passionately, as if confiding all the secrets of the universe in those four short words.

He scoops her up, and she wraps her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips as he kisses her.

Their lips are fused, and they stumble around the bathroom, kissing as much as it's possible to with face-splitting grins drawing their cheeks wide.

Finally Kate slaps Castle's back and he puts her down on the tiled floor.

"You nearly dropped me," she accuses him, tugging on the collar of his robe and pulling him in for another sloppy kiss.

"Never. No, never, Kate, never," he assures her, vehemently shaking his head as she curls her fingers around his ears and peppers his face with tiny kisses, sharing her joyful tears between them.

* * *

They stop the bath just before it overflows and then they get in together, floating in its amniotic-like warmth until their fingers prune and they begin to shiver.

Later in bed, both naked, towel-dryed hair resting on freshly made pillows, they curl up together, limbs entangled, sleepy faces turned towards one another.

"So you're not mad?" whispers Kate, running a hand through Castle's rapidly drying hair, and then skating her index finger over his eyebrow and down the slope of his nose.

"Mad? Why would I be mad at you?" he asks, soft, emotion-filled eyes watching hers carefully, always careful with her and her feelings even now.

"We haven't even set a date yet," she explains, her tone apologetic and lamenting.

"So we step it up a notch or wait until after the baby comes," he tells her, smiling when she smiles in uncontained delight at him. "I'll ask the Mayor to marry us this weekend, Kate, if it'll make you feel any better," he offers, tucking a fast-drying curl behind her ear.

Silence settles around them and they watch one another closely.

"Look…this is your first baby, Kate. _Our child_. That's something so special. I don't want you to stress about anything. Just enjoy this time. Everything else is fixable," he promises, kissing the tips of her fingers.

"I love you so much," she tells him breathlessly, hazel eyes shining as they dance over his face, absorbing and memorizing every inch of him.

"Even though I knocked you up prematurely?" he teases her.

"Can't help it if I'm marrying a stud," she laughs, chucking his chin with her finger.

"We're so blessed, you know that," he tells her, resting his forehead against Kate's. "Seems someone's always looking out for us."

"Yeah, well, let's not push our luck. 'Kay? Last few weeks, we're staying home like I said. I don't care what cases come up or what meetings Paula thinks she can plan for you. Our schedule is _cleared_ until this little one makes an appearance," she tells him, resting her own hand protectively over her abdomen.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," reassures Castle. "Can we call out for takeout?" he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows. "Hmm? Can we? Pizza, Thai…oh, that new Dim Sum place over on Thompson. _They_ deliver."

"We're going to be so fat," giggles Kate, burying her face in Castle's neck.

He wraps his arms around her, drawing her even closer, and she slides one leg between his. "You're going to be so beautiful," he purrs in her ear, making her shiver when he kisses her neck.

"You're biased," she groans, poking him in the ribs.

"Damn right I am," he agrees, playfully nudging her nose with his own.

"Marry me?" blurts Kate, fingers wrapping tightly around his wrist and tugging. "Let's just do it. Get a license, set it up. I don't care where. Let's just get married, Rick."

"You mean that?" His eyes are wide, but full of excitement at her impulsive suggestion.

Kate nods. "Unless you've got cold feet."

"My feet are plenty warm and don't you know it," he tells her, running one toasty arch up along her bare calf, making her laugh.

"Then let's do it. The sooner the better."

"You're only going to be doing this once, Mrs. C-to-be," he warns her, putting on his stern, serious face with the greatest of efforts. "Sure you don't want the big, splashy, white affair you dreamed of as a little girl?"

She kisses his cheek and then shakes her head. "No. No, _you're_ my dream, Castle. _You_ and this baby," she tells him, taking his hand and resting it against the smooth warmth of her still-flat stomach.

And so two weeks later, in the McGraw Rotunda on the 3rd floor of The New York Public Library, with Lanie Parish as Maid of Honor and Javier Esposito as Best Man, Richard Castle makes Kate Beckett's dream come true.

_fin_

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_Love to hear your thoughts. Hope you enjoyed the episode as much as I did. Thank you for reading. Liv_


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